The Letter
by Lady Jaye1
Summary: Prompt challenge. Lifeline reads Doc's final words to him, in the form of a letter.


This story was written in response to a prompt challenge. The theme is "inheritance." This story takes place in the Marvel RAH continuity.

Disclaimer: I don't own GI Joe.

**The Letter**

He stared down at the sealed envelope in his hands, too afraid to open it. Across the front of the letter, the name "Edwin" had been scrawled in Doc's handwriting. It was a surprisingly legible and neat script. The Joes constantly joked about how Dr. Carl Greer defied expectations by writing in a way that could actually be read.

Correction. Had defied.

Lifeline stared dumbly down at the envelope. He felt hollow inside. His fingers were numb and incapable of doing more than cling to the sealed slips of paper.

Doc was dead. Five other Joes were dead. If Lifeline had any doubts before about how cruel Cobra was, the murder of prisoners struck home just how twisted they were. Doc had been a noncombatant. He had even been a pacifist himself, even though Doc had never been as strict a pacifist as his teammate. Carl Greer was willing to pick up a gun. Correction. Had been willing.

His hands shook, but he was still unable to open the envelope. The medic had been sitting secluded like this in his back office for at least fifteen minutes now.

"_Lifeline."_

_The medic looked up from the report he was trying to write and saw a stone faced General Hawk standing in the doorway. Clayton Abernathy glanced in the direction of the Pit's morgue. The bodies of their dead were temporarily being kept there until they could be buried. He looked back at the silent medic. Hawk handed Lifeline a slim envelope._

"_Doc…left that for you," Hawk told him, before falling silent for a few moments. "He wanted you to have it in case he never came back from a mission." The general opened his mouth again, as if to say something else, but then shut it. Lifeline stared down at the envelope in his hands, still too numb to say anything. Hawk patted him on the shoulder, then he was gone._

_Edwin Steen continued to stare at the envelope._

Lifeline ran a finger around the edges of the paper. Doc had been many things to him: mentor, friend, commanding officer…even fatherly figure. He had never admitted that last part to himself before. Doc had only been seven years his senior…more of a brother than a father.

But yet, there had been a quiet maturity and fatherly reassurance that Lifeline had often wished his own father possessed.

He finally summoned up the courage to slide a finger through the seal of the envelope. It slit neatly open with a sharp rip. Lifeline pulled out the letter with surprisingly steady fingers.

_Dear Ed,_

_If you are reading this, then I'm afraid that I met with an unfortunate incident._

Lifeline paused and shook his head. It was so like Doc to term his own battlefield casualty as an "unfortunate incident." He continued reading.

_A letter unfortunately isn't adequate to say everything that should be said. I can say this. I have never been so honored to work with anyone, in or out of our profession. I know you will go on to do even greater things. I have been honored to have you for a friend. Thank you._

_I hope that you will go on to earn your medical degree, which you have talked about in the past. The GI Bill is there for a reason. Please use it._

_I hope that you will continue to keep the others on their toes in my absence. Now that I'm gone, they will need reminding that they are still safe under our care. Well, so long as they don't concoct any half-brained escape attempts. The ninja and Scarlett need no explanation. Neither does Beach Head. They will all rely on you even more now that I'm gone._

_Please keep taking care of my soldiers, Edwin. I know that I can count on you, as always._

_Your friend,_

_Carl_

_P.S. At the very least, I don't have to do PT anymore!_

_You probably shouldn't tell Beach Head that. I know you two have a tendency to gossip sometimes, even though you deny it._

Edwin read through the letter again, before carefully folding it up and placing in safely into a pocket for safe keeping. After a few moments to compose himself, the combat medic returned to duty.

Later that day, he, Psyche Out, and Stretcher drank an entire pot of coffee in Doc's honor.


End file.
